


Night Vale's Last Stand

by youreyestheyglow



Series: The Night Life [4]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale, wtnv
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:02:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyestheyglow/pseuds/youreyestheyglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The War of 1833 begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was nearly three days before Cecil awoke with a start, out of bed and half-dressed before Carlos could sit up or rational thought could set in.

"What are you doing?" Carlos asked tiredly. He glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning - both in Night Vale and in the real world. Time had begun working again, although nothing else worked - the clocks still moved despite the lack of anything that could make a clock move, hooded figures still weren't human, and tentacle monsters still existed. Carlos was unsure as to why this was. He wondered if a part of the defensive shield was still up - if it wasn't just limited to the void, if it was automatic and impossible to fully take down, allowing those inside to live despite the fact that they were clearly not a part of this planet. Cecil still seemed to be able to control them - he'd already saved three children and a stray wanderer in the Biographies section. He had created an entire house, out of his imagination. He still worked, to put it plainly.

"I'm -" Cecil stared down at the pants he'd just pulled on. He frowned. "I don't know."

"A nightmare?"

"I - I don't think so. I thought - something about a nuclear bomb?"

"What, were you dreaming of the War of 1833?" Carlos laughed as Cecil, still looking troubled, got back into bed, still troubled.

"I guess so," he said, although he seemed unsure.

 Carlos buried his face in Cecil's hair and closed his eyes.

Moments later, they snapped open. "Cecil? Did you ever ask how old you were?"

Cecil rolled over to face him, brow furrowed in concentration. "Well... no... but they said they lost me 38 Earth years ago... and kids are only left in the incubator for a year... so at most, I'm 39 years old."

"But you remember the War of 1833?"

"Yes, why?"

"Cecil, it's 2013. There's no way you were alive in 1833."

"But I remember it."

"Time. It's fucked up in here, remember?" He sat up, suddenly scared of the thing in his subconscious that he couldn't quite grasp. "There's no way it could have happened in 1833. For one thing, there was no such thing as a nuclear bomb. For another, you couldn't have possibly remembered it." And then that thing in his head made sense, and he turned to Cecil with growing dread. "If it didn't happen in 1833, when  _did_ it happen?"

Cecil blanched. And then he was up and in his pants, foregoing a shirt, forgetting shoes, and dashing out the door. Carlos was right behind him.

Stars twinkled down at them from up above, but once again they seemed distant. There was something much closer, rocketing towards them at unimaginable speeds, and essentially invisible. 

"You need to put the void back up," Carlos muttered tersely. "Now."

Cecil's third eye flew open, and he asked distractedly, "How do you know?"

"You thought it happened in 1833. The only way something like this could move backwards 180 years is if time stopped making sense, and if the void was up."

The stars above blinked out, one by one, as the void swallowed them whole. And there were still some left when there was a flash and a boom that was impossible to hear, and Carlos found himself yards away from Cecil, still standing stock still, body glowing with a pulsating white light. 

People were coming out of their houses, awakened by the bomb's hit, and pointed at the emerging void. Carlos ran to Cecil. "Are you all right? I need to leave town for a little while. I have some calls to make. I'll be back, I just - don't know when it is in here, and I can't risk the times being out of sync."

Cecil waved a hand as he studied the sky with all three eyes. Carlos ran inside and grabbed his cell phone, hopped into his car, and sped out of town. He parked just outside the boundary, and flipped through his contacts. It had been a long time since he'd needed most of these numbers, but he'd once held a very good job in D.C., and if these people couldn't answer the goddamn phone when he called, they didn't deserve what he'd done for them. 

The first phone call answered on the first ring. "Hello?" A terse voice came over the line.

"Doctor Vaillencourt, you don't sound like you've just woken up," Carlos said accusatorially. 

"Doctor Trevino. It's been a long time since I've heard your voice. And no, I didn't just wake up. I've been awake since ten minutes ago, when the news came over the line that Night Vale was open and ready for destruction, and that the bomb was ready."

"And you didn't do anything."

"I tried. I'm having a hard time arguing with the people who have video footage of things with tentacles, inhuman things wearing black cloaks, a man with moving tattoos, and, just in case the rest doesn't faze you, voter oppression."

"Why didn't you bring in someone who knew Night Vale?" Carlos half-yelled.

"Because aside from you, no outsider could handle Night Vale as well as I could."

"Well then, why  _didn't_   you call me?" And now he was yelling.

"Like I said, I woke up ten minutes ago, and I've been on the phone with people the entire time. I didn't know if you'd be able to wake up quickly enough to argue against it."

"And what, they didn't think about everyone else who lives around here?"

"Carlos, the only other town in that area is Desert Bluffs. And they aren't high on the list of people who ought to be kept alive either. Speaking of which, why aren't you dead? Not that I want you to be, of course."

"Night Vale is back in business and closed off. Are they thinking of trying again?"

"Let's just say that you shouldn't bring that defensive thing down anytime soon."

"Any damage to the surrounding area?"

"Nope. It's like nothing ever happened."

Carlos rubbed his forehead and felt his heart rip apart. "If I get on a plane for D.C. now, do you think people will be willing to listen to me when I get there?"

"What?"

"If I get on a plane to D.C. now, will there be an influential person there for me to talk to when I touch down."

She was silent for a moment. "I could arrange that. Text me when you find out what flight you're on."

"All right. Bye." He hung up before she had a chance to respond, turned around, and headed back home, where he found Cecil standing in the driveway, third eye closed. 

"What's going on?" He asked, before Carlos could even get out of the car.

"I'm flying down to Washington, D.C."

"What? When?" Cecil followed him around the house as he gathered what he'd need for an unknown period of time. 

"As soon as I possibly can."

"I'm coming too."

Carlos looked at him. His first instinct was to say no, that it was probably dangerous, and that Cecil should stay behind just in case the void disappeared. But as he thought about it, it began to seem like a good idea. Who knew Night Vale better than Cecil? Who loved it more than he? Who could speak more assuredly about its future than he? "Are you sure you want to? People out there aren't very nice."

"You said that last time too. I can take care of myself."

"Then pack, fast."

"There's a helicopter leaving from the Night Vale airport," Cecil informed him.

"When?"

"Whenever we need it."

"Is that possible?" 

"We're not obeying laws here, of physics or time or the national government, but yes, it's possible. Also, on a side note, sometime soon, I'd like to leave Night Vale for a good reason."

"We'll go to Europe."

"I'll hold you to that."

They drove to the airport faster than Carlos had ever driven in his life. But he didn't get out of the car. "You know what?"

"Hmm?" Cecil already had one leg out the door.

"We don't have to do this."

"What, is a bomb not enough to convince you?"

"Well - it's not like we're unprotected. We've got a shield that can withstand a nuclear bomb. Why are we rushing to save a city that doesn't need help?"

"Because I don't want to live in a void for the rest of my life?"

Carlos shrugged. "Just saying. If it gets bad out there, we can just come back and forget about it."

"Carlos, I think you dislike the outside world more than I do."

"It's a possibility."

There was a helicopter pad on the top of the main building. "How long has this been here?"

"About... ten minutes?"

"It's imaginary?"

"Yeah."

"Will it work?"

"It should, I based it off of real helicopters."

"How much do you know about helicopters?"

"Nothing. But build the framework and it'll grow on its own, remember?"

"I'll try."

"Have some faith in me," Cecil chided.

Carlos kissed his cheek, causing Cecil to flush like he'd gotten sunburn. "Of course I have faith in you."

They got into the helicopter, and found that there was no pilot. "Can you fly this?" Carlos asked.

"Nope." But his third eye opened, and they took off. 

Carlos held his breath as they left Night Vale's airspace. But the plane kept going. "Can you move the rest of your tattoos?"

A tentacle poked him in the arm. 

"I wonder why that is? Maybe it's because this helicopter is part of Night Vale, so within it, you still work? Or maybe it's because you brought down the void, even if it was just for three days? Maybe it's because you know who you are and -"

"Shh," Cecil said from between clenched teeth. "Flying a helicopter isn't easy and I don't know what I'm doing."

Carlos shut his mouth and opened his phone instead, texting Dr. Vaillencourt with an approximate time and asking where they could land a helicopter. She told him to keep flying and she'd give him a precise location as soon as she could.

Carlos waited, worried that the plane would stop working, that it was running on extra energy. Half an hour later, he received a text saying that the president himself was extremely interested in meeting Cecil, and that the President's helicopter pad would be open for them when they arrived. Carlos conveyed the information to Cecil in as few words as possible, and returned to worrying about how the helicopter worked, and why Cecil worked, and how much of his previous inability to move his tattoos had been psychological. After all, people had psychological problems that caused them to go mute, or to be unable to walk, or to limp, and in times of desperation, when the only thing that mattered was survival and other things ceased to exist, people could overcome their psychological injuries. It would explain why Cecil's eye had opened at Erika's funeral, and it would explain his ability to function now - rather than believing that he was a product of Night Vale in a normal world, he now understood that Night Vale was a product of himself, and Night Vale worked in the real world too. 

They landed several hours later, in the midst of several menacing government agents. Carlos grabbed Cecil and kissed him. "We'll be all right," he promised, to both Cecil and himself. "I swear." 

They opened the doors to the helicopter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the pres.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not putting the end notes up here because I don't want to spoil anything, but PLEASE don't get angry at me until you read the notes at the end. Some of the stuff I wrote could be taken the wrong way, but I couldn't clarify without making the writing clumsy and full of run-on sentences. If something pisses you off - not plot-wise, but within the writing - go ahead and scroll down to the notes.

Carlos and Cecil left the helicopter, walking into the waiting ring of vague yet menacing government agents. They all stood in silence, waiting for someone to speak. Finally, a tall, bulky agent spoke. "Is the pilot going to get out?"

"There is no pilot," Cecil answered. 

The agent raised his eyebrows. "How did it fly here?"

"I flew it."

"You got out of the back seat."

"I know."

Carlos couldn't see their eyes behind their dark glasses, but he suspected that some of them were glancing around, waiting for a gun-toting pilot to leap out. When none appeared, they sighed and gestured for Carlos and Cecil to follow them.

"Ceece," Carlos muttered, "Can you still use your eye? Tattoos?"

Someone hushed them. Cecil's third eye blinked, and a tentacle on his neck twitched. 

Carlos wondered, yet again, what the difference was. "The temporary absence of the void? The loss of a psychological block? A new theory occured to him: had Cecil gained more control over them? Perhaps they were like muscles - they were certainly there, but they needed to be exercised in order to be useful. And Cecil had been working out, in a sense, for quite some time.

They were searched multiple times. One guard insisted that Cecil take off his shirt, certain that he'd felt something move - but of course, there was nothing there except tattoos. The guard looked mildly confused, and was probably immensely confused but with a good poker face.

And finally, under armed guard, they were brought into the Oval Office.

The President sat behind his desk, and stood to shake their hands. "You must be Carlos Trevino and Cecil Baldwin," he said in a deep voice. He nodded to Cecil. "Since the barrier around your town came down, I've been listening to your radio show. It's... informative, to say the least."

Cecil flushed. Carlos raised an eyebrow. "And at some point, while listening to a human being transmit news over the radio, you decided to drop a nuclear bomb on him?" Well, Cecil wasn't precisely _human,_ per say, but no one else needed to know that.

The President sat down, and gestured for Carlos and Cecil to do the same. "I understand the problems you're having with my decision. However, I'd like to ask you to look at it from my point of view." He rested his hands on the desk in front of him. "There have been government agents in that town for decades now, building a file on  Night Vale that each successive president has read in various states of shock. We have comprehensive lists of what goes on in that town, and they are horrifying. The death rate is higher in the library alone than in most towns. The town death rate is - extreme, to say the least. And the things that are in that town - there isn't a single law that I can think of that could regulate any of them. I have photographic proof of some of the things that go on in that town - pyramids aren't supposed to appear in the middle of nowhere. Cats don't hang in mid-air, and they don't make noises like that. And, of course, I've heard all about your work -" he nodded at Carlos - "with the imaginary house, discovering that time moves differently within the town... very impressive."

"Well, I'd like it to not be for nothing," Carlos said acidly. 

Cecil, ever the diplomat, leaned forward, making himself the center of the President's attention. It was probably for the best, since Carlos was doing a horrible job at making the point that Night Vale deserved to remain, but he still felt mildly annoyed. Also very jealous. The only other person who had made Cecil flush like that was Sony, and as his sister and a female, she didn't count. The President was male, and quite good-looking, and Cecil was a sucker for compliments on his radio show. 

"Mr. President, what if I told you there was a way to bring down the casualties without killing off all of the perpetrators?"

"I'm listening."

And Cecil, who talked for a living, who made words into beautiful things that people could listen to for half an hour every night, spun the most incredible story Carlos had ever heard, and he'd lived through it. He was slightly appeased by the prominent role given to him - he was credited with figuring everything out - but he still fretted over the President's marital state and sexuality. So what if the President was happily married and straight? Carlos hadn't exactly announced his sexuality when he'd arrived in Night Vale, and Cecil had waited an entire year for his feelings to be reciprocated. 

By the time Cecil sat back in his chair, the President's eyebrows were far above their normal position, and he looked like he'd been hit with a brick. Carlos heard some shuffling from the secret service agents behind him and wondered if they'd ever been so shocked. He wondered how it was possible that the President had a folder on everything that had happened in Night Vale since it had appeared, but didn't know what had been going on in the past month.

"I'd heard that things were changing, but I didn't realize it was to that extent," he said carefully. "However, it is not a permanent solution."

"You're trying to find a permanent solution to a problem that is quickly becoming obsolete," Cecil was quick to remind him. "The casualty rate has dropped exponentially."

"They're under your control. What happens if something happens to you? What happens if you die? If you lose control? If you get sick? If you dream, does it become real? Can they get out of that town? From how far away can you control them?"

Cecil sat in his chair, tight-lipped. Neither he nor Carlos could answer those questions. But Carlos had spent years trying to get funding for new experiments, and, when he wasn't jealous, could sway the most tight-fisted governmental agent.

"Mr. President, I thinik you're overlooking something."

"Please, enlighten me." 

"As things stand now, nothing native to Night Vale can leave, excepting Cecil. He's left the town before, with no escapees. As long as he is alive, Night Vale is contained."

"And if he dies?"

"If he dies, one of two things will happen. One: the boundary stays. Nothing changes, except, perhaps, that the paranormal things regain their homicidal tendancies, in which case the town would be easily evacuated. Two: the boundary disappears. But - and this is what you overlooked - if one thing he created dies with him, why wouldn't the other things die with him too? Who's to say that if he dies, the things will even continue to exist, let alone run free?"

Instantly, he knew he'd said something wrong. The President's eyes slid speculatively over to Cecil, and Carlos could hear rustling in the background. 

"And here's something else," he continued calmly, "Night Vale is proof that there are aliens out there, aliens who can find their way here. Night Vale is essentially a scientific experiment, one that could teach us and prepare us for other extraterrestrial encounters. Ending Night Vale would be the end of an incredible experiment, one that I've barely gotten into. What will you do if more aliens pay us a visit? Hope they go away? Bomb them into non-existence? Forfeit a potential treaty, a potential alliance? Think about the potential for resources -"

The President raised a hand, silencing him. "Mr. Trevino, all the points you have made are valid. But if we have an alien encounter, I think the amount of time I allowed a destructive alien to reside on my soil will be plenty of proof that we are friendly. I hope you'll come to agree with me."

The sounds of three gunshots rang out so close to Carlos's ear that for a moment, he thought they'd been meant for him. But before the ringing in his ears had even faded, he heard a yell and understood - they were meant for Cecil, were meant to end the town that had plagued its citizens for decades. And he didn't want to look - he didn't want to know - but he had to look, of course, there was no way Cecil was dead yet, and he wasn't going to let Cecil bleed out and -

Another shot. And another. A third. Carlos looked over to see Cecil surrounded by a thin, shimmering membrane, which seemed to be absorbing and dissolving the bullets as they made contact. Cecil reached out, stretching the membrane, and grabbed Carlos's hand. The membrane extended to cover him, too, and the noise was suddenly muffled. Looking out was like looking through a window that hadn't been cleaned in quite some time. 

"I guess we should go?" Cecil said, voice strangely sharp against the dull thuds of bullets against the membrane. 

"Sure. Where to? Back to Night Vale? I don't think we can just grab a hotel room, they'd probably bomb the hotel."

Cecil thought for a minute. "What was the name of that scientist you were talking to earlier?"

"Dr. Vaillencourt?"

"Let's go see her."

"Why?"

"She's not emotionally invested in Night Vale. Any evidence she gathers will be entirely objective."

"Evidence for what?"

"Evidence that trying to hurt me is useless."

Carlos looked at the vividly purple eye, wide open and focused, and understood why the only thing that had worked in Arizona was that eye. It wasn't just creepy; it was the best defense Cecil had. 

"What do you think that will do?" He suddenly grinned, as he realized the absurdity of their situation. They sat next to each other, holding hands like lovers, speaking calmly like scientists, while around them men in black suits and sunglasses shot at them, picked up heavy objects and swung at them, stabbed at them, all to no avail. 

"Force them to call a truce? I don't know, I just don't want to be stuck in Night Vale under the void for the rest of my life." 

Carlos shrugged. "I don't exactly have a plan, so that sounds good to me. Think we can fly there?"

"In the helicopter?"

"Unless those wings of yours work and can carry an extra person, yes," Carlos said, the memory of feathers beneath his fingers flashing through his mind. 

They stood and walked out through security, past people who had given up trying to reach them, and Carlos felt the strangest sense of elation he'd ever experienced. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, before you get angry with me for the whole "Sony doesn't count because she's female" thing, please remember that Cecil is, in fact, gay, and not really attracted to women. I meant it in the sense that Cecil would never be attracted to her, not in the sense that she's a girl and therefore worthless.  
> Also, I sort of created a new president for this. It's not Obama. It's a dude I created for the specific purpose of having someone be a dick and creating conflict. Don't take this as me hating on Obama.


	3. Chapter 3

Cecil and Carlos soon discovered that the helicopter was not as immune to bullets as they were, and that Cecil couldn't cover it with the membrane - which Carlos was very interested in - that he was carting around. That made for an interesting problem, as it meant that the only way they could escape was, essentially, to disappear. They couldn't really go home, either, because any mode of transportation could be bombed or made to explode in an interesting and unexplained way, and while they might be immune to whatever the government had, most people weren't. Getting an entire plane or a train blown up wouldn't make a good impression. 

So they wandered around the White House, doing their best to get lost in large groups of people, but no matter where they went, there were men in black suits lurking around the edges of the group, unwilling to make a scene but unwilling to let them go. It took two hours - by which time both of them were tired of walking, and tired of the strange stares they were getting for the shimmering second skin they were wearing - for a large tour group to leave, with the two of them in the center. Once they were out, it was the work of a moment to duck behind buildings, to flee down side streets that Carlos had memorized long ago, to find a place to hide until they could go farther. Cecil suggested calling Dr. Vaillencourt, but Carlos was against that proposition - she was the one who had set up the meeting with the President.

"I don't think she knew they were going to try to kill us," Cecil said tentatively. 

"No, I don't think she did, but it's obvious that we're friends, or at least, acquainted, and that I've spoken to her recently. If I were the one looking for us, it would be the first place I'd go." 

"Do you have any other friends we could go to?"

"No, they'll be checking all my co-workers, and I never really... oh."

"What?"

"Ah..."

" _Carlos_."

"Well, I don't know how good an idea it is."

"Well, there's no guarantee it'll get us anywhere..."

"Will it get us in trouble?"

"Well, me, maybe... probably..."

Cecil looked suspicious. "Who would want to hurt you instead of me?"

"You... him..."

"Him who? Would they look for us at his house?"

"Well... maybe... maybe not..."

Cecil had released Carlos and had his arms crossed over his chest, having apparantly forgotten that Carlos was not naturally bulletproof. " _Carlos_."

Carlos sighed. "Around six or seven years ago, I was at a bar, and a dude bought me a drink. Three weeks later, we started dating. He went into the army for a couple years, and came back one leg short and really, really angry. We kept dating for a little while, and I didn't care about the leg thing - obviously, I don't particularly care about bodily imperfections -"

Cecil glanced down at himself. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Ceece, you have tentacles. It's not exactly normal. Don't get angry, I don't mind them. If anything, I've kind of gotten attached to them. Anyway.

"I could have dealt with the one leg, but he... he didn't want to. And I don't think he wanted me to. He was angry it was gone, and he came back prepared for me to be too. I tried to get him help, but he didn't want any. And after a couple months of that, I gave up and left. He was angry, yelled that I was leaving a war veteran and a whole ton of other shit, and... it was a bad break-up. Half the reason I left here was so that I wouldn't have to risk running into him."

Cecil sighed. "Every time I leave Night Vale, I meet a new ex-boyfriend."

"I'm sorry. If it helps, you're the only person I've ever dated that I lived with," Carlos offered. 

Cecil didn't appear to find this information comforting. He sighed again. "Well, we may as well check it out. With any luck, his house will be swarming with government agents, and we won't be able to get in without them blowing up his house."

"That's not a very nice thing to wish upon somebody," Carlos joked, poking Cecil in the ribs.

"If I was being mean, I'd bring him to Night Vale. And show him the Dog Park. And accidentally forget to hold the Hooded Figures in check." He smiled serenely. "I'm actually being quite kind."

"That's terrifying."

"Where is this ex-boyfriend's house?"

Carlos took his time remembering where all the darker streets and lesser-known avenues were. Safety was the most important thing, of course, but he wasn’t sure this counted as safe. He scoured the recesses of his memory for any place else he could go, any other friends the government might not know about, but he hadn’t really made friends in his time there. He’d been friendly with his coworkers, but his only contact outside of work had been Sammy. And not only would all of his coworkers be checked, but he hadn’t been great friends with them anyway – as soon as he left for Night Vale, he stopped talking to those who stayed in D.C., and as soon as everyone left Night Vale, he stopped talking to them. He really hadn’t made all that many connections over the course of his lifetime, he realized. He had never wanted to be someplace just because someone else was there, or wanted to be there. Even in his most serious relationships, if he wanted to go somewhere and his boyfriend didn’t, he went anyway. He’d flown across the country from his family for college and graduate school, had lived in multiple different places just as far away, had settled on the East Coast, and had made no lasting friendships. That had never particularly worried him – he always thought that it was the hallmark of a healthy relationship, that one could be apart from their partner at a moment’s notice and not miss them at all in their time away.

But Cecil was different. Something about him made Carlos jealous, made Carlos want to be where Cecil was. Something about Cecil had made his mother’s death a little easier, the hours spent in an imaginary helicopter less terrifying.

He stopped walking for a moment to kiss a surprised Cecil, laugh at the expected Christmas-decorations-red, and kiss him again.

They moved on.

They were across the street when Sam’s door opened a crack, and he peered out at the three men in black suits on his porch. “Who are you and what do you want?”

The men spoke more quietly, and Carlos and Cecil missed what they said as they crept into the shadows.

“Do you have a warrant?”

Sam always had spoken at a volume that exceeded that of most concerts.

Something else was said. No warrant was produced.

“If you have no warrant, I’m not letting you in.”

A gun was produced.

Sam snorted. “Put it on the record that I objected and let you in under duress. Who are you looking for that you want him this bad?”

The agents stepped inside.

The door hadn’t closed when Sam’s voice rang, loud and clear, through the street: “ _Carlos Trevino_?”

 

Ten minutes later three agents left, walking rather quickly in Carlos’s opinion. Sammy stood at the door and watched them go, eyes promising bloodshed.

“Should we go in?” Cecil breathed in Carlos’s ear, several minutes after the agents had left.

“I suppose so.”

They went around to the back door, reluctant to stand out front, and knocked. They heard Sam stumping around inside, yelling something about how he'd warned them and he didn't give a shit about the consequences, he'd been to war - unlike those governmental bastards - and he knew how to disappear off the face of the earth. When the door opened, the barrel of a shotgun was pointed straight at Carlos's face.

"Ah - hi, Sammy," Carlos said, immensely grateful for the still-strong membrane coating his body. 

"Carlos Trevino. What the hell is on your skin." He lowered the gun, eyes taking in the irridescent bug shell that wrapped up Carlos and a heavily tattooed man holding his hand. "And what the hell is on his."

One of Cecil's tentacles waved. 

Sam shrugged. "I've seen weirder. Come in."

Carlos and Cecil followed, Carlos in shock. "What, you're not angry? Purposefully aiming the gun at me? Yelling?"

"Eh, too tired. I just spent ten minutes convincing three guys without a warrent that not only would you never come here, but also that I would shoot them if they stayed long, and then I'd been suicidal and brave for the past twenty years and that I wouldn't mind going out after killing three blank-faced idiots who were searching my house."

"You haven't changed at all," Carlos observed. 

"Eh, I have. Just not noticeably." He glanced at Cecil. "You've changed, though. Your type has. He doesn't look like he's anything like me."

Cecil looked torn between being happy that he couldn't be compared to an ex-boyfriend and being angry at the implication that he was a rebound. 

"No, he's not as crazy."

Cecil didn't look much happier. Carlos quickly changed the subject.

"Did they tell you why we're here?"

"They said something about escaped aliens. I thought you were an illegal immigrant and they wanted to deport you." He nodded at Cecil's tattoos. "But I get the feeling they were talking about you."

Cecil nodded.

"I guess you're the reason for... that?" he waved a hand at the two of them. Carlos thought he was referring to the fact that they were holding hands, but Cecil answered first.

"Yes. It's bulletproof. And resistant to everything else they've thrown at us."

"I wonder if it's a smaller version of what's around Night Vale?" Cecil thought aloud. "If it is, what's the point of the void? it obviously doesn't need to be there - except that it seems to keep people from finding it? If this thing is any indication, you could probably leave up the barrier and take away the -"

"Holy shit, I forgot you used to do that," Sammy exclaimed. "Ramble on for hours at a time while everyone around you stood there in silence 'cause they had no idea what you were talking about."

"I know what he's talking about," Cecil said quietly.

"Good for you, you're the only non-scientist I've ever met who does. Unless you  _are_ a scientist?"

"Radio show host."

"Good for you. Are you any good?"

"He's the best," Carlos said.

"All right. So now that we've established how everyone's doing, let's talk about why you're here. Shelter? Food? Transportation? Fake IDs?"

"You can get us fake IDs?"

"I know where you could. But I doubt anyone could forget those tattoos, so it's probably pointless."

"How about a phone call?"

"Pretty sure my phones are tapped."

"Not a problem. I've spent the past couple years hacking cameras and... I'll be honest, I don't know what to call it. Jamming phones? Preventing phone taps? Gimme twenty minutes."

"Where did you go again?"

"Night Vale."

"Why did you need to hack cameras?"

"Cecil, could you explain Night Vale to him? I can't talk and hack at the same time."

"Of course. In Night Vale, the government is quite honest about watching and listening to its citizens. In fact, it's considered good manners to speak loudly and gesticulate wildly, in order to make the Secret Police's job easier and more entertaining. Carlos, however, didn't take very well to that, and within a month, had all of his cameras on loop, and all of his phone lines jammed. For the first few months, the Secret Police came in every day to change the cameras, but they've cut it back to once a month."

"What are they watching for?"

"Illegal activity. Signs that a person might vote for the wrong person. Signs that a person needs re-education. Stuff like that."

"Is that  _legal_?"

"Of course not! But who could ever win against a government that doesn't care about its citizens and will do anything to stay in power and push its unfair and prejudiced agenda forward?"

There was silence for a moment. "Shit, Carlos, I get why you're dating him. He makes as little sense as you do."

"So..." Cecil's voice was tentative. "You don't... mind? That we're dating?"

"It's been a long time since we made a good couple. I wouldn't be able to stand him anymore, and it's been years since he could stand me. If the two of you want to blabber at each other all day, it's your business."

"You were right," Carlos said, before realizing he was talking to phone wires. He twisted around. "You were right. You did change."

"I took a couple yoga classes and got my head on straight. Or didn't. The number of times I've twisted my head in an abnormal direction in those classes..."

"What inspired you to take yoga?"

"Met a guy at a bar who did yoga and invited me along."

"Are you dating him?"

"I did. For a little while. And then I stopped dating him and doing yoga."

"Why?"

"He didn't realize I only had one leg."

"Jesus."

"You're telling me."

"Well, your phones aren't tapped anymore," Carlos said, straightening up. "Or, they are, it's just that no one will hear anything. Did they put any cameras in here?"

"If they did, they'd have shot us all down by now," Sammy reminded him. 

"Great." He dialed Dr. Vaillencourt's number. 

A man picked up. "Who's this?"

"Crocker Pye."

"Pie? Like the food?"

"P-Y-E. Pye. Is Dr. Vaillencourt there?"

"Hold on."

"Crocker?" Her voice came over the line - strong and steady, which was more than most people could manage in her situation.

"Hey! How're things? It's been a long time since I talked to you! Hope I'm not interrupting?"

"Well, I've got a couple people here - we're collaborating on a project. Trying to hunt down information."

"Sorry, sorry. Just curious as to if you were going to be busy over the next couple days? I had a couple questions on radiation."

"Sorry - I'll be busy. And I hate answering questions over the phone. What if I call you back when I'm not busy, and we can arrange lunch or something?"

"Sounds great. I'll be waiting for your call."

"All right. Bye."

"Bye." Carlos hung up and turned to see two confused faces staring at him. He sighed. "When Lisa and I worked together, we had a horrible boss. We started to get really good at shit-talking him, right in front of him, without him noticing - we basically invented a whole other language for it. Crocker Pye - we were trying to think of some way to call his requests a crock of shit without him noticing. So Lisa thought it out, and came up with a name - Crocker Pye. She says she thought of shit, then feces, then cowpies, and voila - Crocker Pye. A guy answered her phone. She lives alone. I gave the name Crocker Pye so she'd know who it was. She said she had a couple people there, trying to hunt down information. Since she wouldn't specify, it was someone who would get her in trouble for mentioning it. Years ago, it was our boss. Now, it's the Secret Service. She said she'd be busy for the next couple days. It used to mean doing something pointless, stupid, that she was forced to do against her will - a shitty project or presentation, usually. I'm guessing that today it means she's being followed. And she said she's not answering questions over the phone. I'm taking it to mean that her phone lines are tapped too. So we can't go to her."

"You really got all that out of a twenty-second conversation?" Cecil asked.

Carlos shrugged. "We used to get really, really bored at work."

"So we've got no place to go and no one to help us," Cecil said, the reality of his situation dawning on him. "And we can't get back to Night Vale."

"What d'ya mean, no place to go?" Sammy asked indignantly. "What, do you think I'm just going to chuck you out into the arms of the beast?"

"I - didn't think you'd want to take us in," Carlos said carefully.

"I don't. But I hate the government more than I hate you. Taking in two fugitives is like adding my middle fingers to Mount Rushmore. You're welcome here for as long as you're on the run."

Carlos looked at Cecil. Cecil shrugged.

"Thank you."

"No screwing in the guest bedroom."

Cecil's eyebrows shot up into his bangs and his face turned a brighter red than a gala apple. "N-n-n-no, no, of course not -"

"Jesus, he flusters easily, doesn't he?" Sammy commented.

"Yeah. Yeah, he does," Carlos said with a grin. "It's great."

Cecil's blush didn't fade for some time afterwards.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grasping at last hopes even though it’s useless and they know it won’t work. Me cackling in the distance because I’ve already told you how it ends and you probably didn’t notice.

Carlos sat up all night on Sammy's computer, looking up forms of transport and computing and recomputing the amount of danger any given vehicle would place them in. He emailed multiple old coworkers from Sammy's email address, spending more time proofreading a single email than he'd spent on his thesis paper. Each email was full of personalized, carefully-worded questions that would hopefully lead them to the conclusion that it was Carlos emailing them and that he was looking for help, while preventing others from figuring out the same thing. Inside jokes peppered the text, jokes that only a couple people had been in on; references to projects they'd done together; references to Night Vale that only those who had studied it could possibly understand. By the time the sun was rising, he'd finished ten emails and gotten two responses, spent half an hour on each response deciphering it - one was written in Russian, and still contained the same misleading sentances as his own emails - and eaten his way through half a box of cereal. Cecil had slept on the couch at the other end of the room, occasionally rising, reading the emails Carlos was writing, excitedly pointing out the things he understood, and shaking his head at the rest. Sammy had gotten up at three in the morning to yell at Carlos for eating so much and to remind Cecil that there was, in fact, another bed that he could sleep in. Cecil had remained on the couch. 

Carlos napped in the chair for a little while, flying into wakefulness every time it  _dinged_ with the arrival of an email. Each email took some time to figure out, but each contained the same general message: they were being watched, don't come visit, what the hell did you do, try someone else. In every case, the suggested people had already been contacted. 

"I suppose I could drive you out-of-state or something," Sammy suggested. "You could hide in the back seat or something."

"If you go somewhere, they'll be following. And in any case, I don't think leaving will do much. Unless you can get us a private plane that'll go unnoticed until we get to Night Vale, transport is going to be nearly impossible. 

"So what? I'd love it if you could stay forever," Sammy said sarcastically, "But I get the feeling that's kind of impossible."

"We need help. Don't get offended, you're helping a ton and we'd probably be dead without you, but we need more help than you can provide."

"What are you going to do, make a YouTube video?" Sammy asked scathingly. "Tweet about it? Create a group on Facebook?"

"Actually, the YouTube thing isn't a bad idea. We'd just have to make it impossible to trace."

"What if we made it, and sent it to someone else, and had them publish it?" suggested Cecil. 

"What do you even expect to happen?" Sammy asked with raised eyebrows. 

"Ceece, I don't know if that would work, I think they'd find the person who published it and figure out where they got it from. We'd have to scramble it somehow. And I'm hoping for an underground railroad type thing? Except that slaves were pretty low-profile, and we've got the government on our asses and also technology. Maybe just get enough people on our side to force Mr. President to let us go? God, I have no idea. I am totally out of ideas. I'm not creative, I'm a scientist."

"You figured out that the house didn't exist," Cecil reminded him helpfully. 

"There's a house that doesn't exist? Wouldn't that make it - not a house?"

"No, it  _looks_ like a house, like it's just there when you look at it. And there are two identical houses on either side, so it would make more sense to be there than not. But it's just - not there."

"What the hell is wrong with that place?"

"So, so much," Carlos muttered, earning him a hard glare from Cecil. "No, no, I like it, I'm not leaving, but it's not exactly a normal place, you can't tell me it is. There's a house that doesn't exist and weird levitating static-noise-making flesh-eating hooded figures, a floating cat - sorry, it had kittens, multiple floating cats that make the most terrifying noise on the entire planet, a glowing animal-raining cloud, clocks that aren't real -"

"Clocks are fake too?"

"They shouldn't work. There's nothing inside them. But they move anyway. Also time doesn't quite work well. Actually, it's been working on a second-per-second ratio since Cecil brought the void down, but that'll be gone now -"

"Void?"

"Yeah, there wasn't much sky, mostly just terrifying, existentially terrifying, void. Interesting place. You should visit sometime."

"You couldn't get me in there if it was the only place I could possibly survive."

"Well, that's kind of our problem right now, so..."

"Right. Well. Back to the original question: could you make a youtube video untraceable?"

"Probably not."

"What if I brought in a friend?"

"Anyone who comes in is going to be put on a hit list."

"What if you sent him the video and he worked with it from his computer?"

"Can you call him?"

"Gimme a minute." He stumped off into the kitchen.

"What are we putting in the video?" Cecil asked innocently.

"You."

"Me?"

"You."

"Why not you?"

"Because I don't have moving tattoos."

"Oh. Will it help?"

"Can't hurt."

"Are you sure?"

"Nope."

"That's comforting."

"Nothing's comforting, at the moment."

The click of a phone being hung up sounded from the kitchen, and Sammy wandered back in grumpily. "He doesn't have a computer right now. He's been using the computers from work, and the one they gave him broke. He doesn't know when it's getting replaced."

"So, we've got nothing."

"Nothing."

Carlos pretended not to notice the flicker of relief across Cecil's face. To be honest, he too was glad he didn't have to put Cecil up on YouTube like an interesting circus animal. Of course, he was also out of ideas, even ideas that had a 3.6% chance of working, or of doing anything.

"How long do you think they'll be on your case? A day or two? Three? Three thousand?"

"I don't know. I don't know how important -"

"Hey! I got a text from Dana!" Cecil exclaimed.

"How is that in any way more important -"

"Dana's a very, very good friend, who is in mortal danger at all times and also sends Cecil cat videos sometimes."

"Mortal danger? From what?"

"Remember the Hooded Figures I was talking about a little while ago?"

He snorted. "The things that levitate and produce static noises?"

"Yeah. Well, they live in the Dog Park, which is surrounded by obsidian walls and is infinitely large. Due to circumstances unforeseen by everyone except me, apparantly, because everyone is entirely oblivious to the fact that all interns die, Dana ended up in the Dog Park. However, in circumstances unforeseen by absolutely everyone, she survived, and sometimes texts or calls Cecil to deliver news."

"She says that things are different from last time I left," Cecil paraphrased, "And that everyone outside of the Dog Park is still moving around -"

"Call her," Carlos instructed. "If you can."

Cecil's phone began bleeding profusely. He caught it in his hands and ran to the sink. "If I can see through the blood, maybe."

"Shit, what happened, did he cut himself, what's going on," Sammy sprinted into the bathroom and returned with a first aid kit.

"No, no, it's his phone, not his hand," Carlos reassured him. "The Dog Park doesn't like it when the outside world tries to communicate with the things inside."

"I've got no reception... or, I do, but it's not... receiving. Sorry, Carlos," Cecil said, disappointed. "What did you need to know?"

"I don't -" Carlos frowned. "I had it. There was something I needed to know and... read me the text again?"

Cecil reread the message several times, but whatever it was was gone.

Sammy sighed as he washed blood down the drain. "It didn't drip on my carpet, right?"

Carlos looked around. "No."

"Go to sleep. Keep your phone next to you. Put it on a pile of towels just in case." Sammy eyed the phone, as though worried it would jump to life and sprint through the hallways. "And if it rings, answer it."

Carlos reluctantly walked down the hallway to the guest bedroom, where he found that he was much more exhausted than he realized. Cecil lay down next to him. "You're still tired?" Carlos asked, turning to wrap an arm around Cecil's waist. 

"No, but I'm happier here." He looked anxious, close up. He had small lines on his face, the beginning of wrinkles that wouldn't be apparant for several years. He had no gray hair yet, as far as Carlos could tell. And Carlos felt horribly, horribly guilty about it. Cecil was young and getting older, vicious and vulnerable, courageous and scared. And Carlos had dragged him away from his home, had given powerful enemies the motive to kill them and prevent them from ever going home, and all of his connections and brains were useless. And still, Cecil trusted him. 

And Carlos felt his heart break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long and the resulting chapter was short, I was catching up to Doctor Who and also being lazy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things fall into place.

Carlos spent the rest of the day and all night sitting next to the phone and refreshing his email. Cecil didn't set his phone down for a second. Carlos would spend hours jittery and wide-awake, and hours after that holding his eyelids open. His ability to focus seemed to correlate indirectly to the amount of time spent without any information. 

And then there was a buzz, Cecil screamed, Sammy nearly tripped in his rush to get out of the kitchen, and Carlos fell out of his chair. "It's Dana!" Cecil shrieked, flipping open his phone and answering. "Dana!" He put it on speaker.

"Cecil, why are you yelling?" She reprimanded. 

"Dana? Can you hear me?"

"Carlos? Is that you?"

"Yeah. Quick question."

"Shoot."

"What did you mean by your text? What's different? What's going on?"

"Well, last time you left, Night Vale - except the Dog Park - stopped. Nothing moved. And then you came back, and it sped through nearly a week in a few minutes. This time, time is glitching, and the void is cracking."

"Glitching? Cracking? What do you mean by cracking? Why didn't the Dog Park stop too? How did you know? Can you see through to the outside world?"

"I mean the void is cracking. Like old paint. I don't know if people outside can tell or if things can get through or if things in here can get out. After whatever they threw at us a couple days ago, I figured it's best not to tell anyone? The Dog Park didn't stop because the Dog Park doesn't have time, or even really space. If Night Vale is in another dimension, the Dog Park is in an entirely different one. Maybe it's the same dimension as the house that doesn't exist. It would make sense. Maybe Night Vale cracked at some point? It's old, isn't it? Older than it should be? Maybe it's broken. I knew the outside world stopped because there were several Hooded Figures out there that didn't come back for a while, and because none of the Hooded Figures in here would leave. I can't really see through, but the Hooded Figures speak a weird language - it sounds much different outside of the Dog Park, from what I can tell, but in here it's not so bad, and I can almost understand it. They're very agitated right now, by the way, Cecil. They don't like that you're not here and they want you to come back."

"They want me to come back?" Cecil squeaked. 

"That's what I'm picking up from them. They haven't been this annoyed since last time you left."

" _They were -_ "

"Ok," Carlos interrupted. "We need to think. All right. Why would the void crack? Ah - maybe you didn't rebuild it as well as it was built in the first place, you did a quick job of it. Maybe the nuclear bomb did hurt it. I'll come back to that later.

"Why didn't the Dog Park stop? Dana, I like your theory - the Dog Park is recent, and it might have been another split in reality. Time changes all the time in there - why not space too?

"Why are the Hooded Figures annoyed that Cecil is gone? Ceece, you're their protection - you keep them safe and alive. I'd be annoyed too.

"New question. Dana. Can you communicate with the Hooded Figures without dying?"

"I - hold on one second. I promise I won't hang up."

"All right."

There was silence on the other end of the line. And then a male voice spoke. "Hello?"

"Who is this?"

"You know me as the Man in the Tan Jacket. My name is unpronounceable in your language. Dana said you need to talk to the Hooded Figures?"

"She can't do it?"

"Are you willing to risk her life?"

"No. All right. I know the Hooded Figures steal children. Would they be able to carry grown adults?"

Silence, and a staticky noise. "They say yes, their strength knows no bounds."

"Would they be able to leave Night Vale and survive?"

More static. But maybe it wasn't so much static as hissing? Silence. A long silence. "One just exited the town and returned. They can."

"They can levitate. Can they fly, and can they fly outside of Night Vale?"

"They can't fly, but when they levitate, they can drift in a general direction."

"Good enough. Can they come get us, and can they steal a bomb while they're over here?" He felt silly, using the word 'bomb' so often. He couldn't help but picture a cartoon bomb - a black bowling ball, complete with rope fuse sparking at one end. 

The thought of a real bomb was nearly enough to stop his heart.

"Are you insane?"

"Possibly. Probably. Maybe. Yes. I don't know. Ask them."

Silence. A sigh. Hissing static. "They asked for an address."

Carlos relayed Sammy's address.

"They're on their way. Is there any particular way you'd like to be burried?"

"I don't know about Cecil, but for me, call my sister and tell her to cremate me."

"And Cecil?"

"Looks like he's about to puke. I'm not asking him to open his mouth."

"I'll put Dana back on the phone."

There was some background noise. "Carlos?"

"Hi Dana."

"If you die, can I have your stuff?"

"No, it goes to my siblings and niece."

"Damn."

"Sorry."

"Well, is that all you needed?"

"I think so."

"All right. Bye. Bye, Cecil."

There was a tiny "bye" from Cecil. 

Carlos shut the phone. 

"What's going on?" Sammy asked.

"Flesh-eating homicidal inhuman creatures are coming to pick us up and levitate us home."

"Are you insane?"

"I just had this conversation. If you want, we'll wait outside."

"How long will it take them to get here?"

"I have no idea, but I have a feeling we'll know when they arrive."

"How?"

"What would you do if you glanced out your window and saw a couple of faux-dementors floating down your street?"

"Good point. Why the bombs?"

"Because we already got them."

Sammy sighed and glared at Carlos exhaustedly. "I don't know what the fuck is going on. I have never been to or heard of Night Vale in my entire goddamn life. What makes you think I know what you're talking about?"

"Ok. Cecil told me a story, a long time ago, about what they call the War of 1833. A nuclear bomb got dropped on Night Vale, a bunch of Hooded Figures left, and when they returned, they brought atomic bombs with them. Clearly, that's bullshit. They didn't have bombs in 1833. But, as I've said before, time doesn't work correctly in Night Vale. It's broken. So they thought it happened in 1833, even though it's happening now. So Cecil can tell us how it ends." 

They turned to face Cecil.

Cecil's pale face had a green tinge to it. "I don't know," he whispered. "I know there are atomic bombs. That's it."

"That's it?"

"I don't remember anything else."

"I thought you said you remembered missing the Hooded Figures?"

"I... did..." he looked terrifyingly unsure. 

Carlos smacked his forehead. "You weren't supposed to come! You weren't supposed to be here! You were supposed to stay there! That's why you remembered so much, and why you don't remember it anymore! Is that even possible? Can things even change like that?"

"Why wasn't I supposed to come?"

"Because I was supposed to go alone! And I nearly did! But I changed my mind. I don't know why. Maybe I wasn't supposed to. How was time rewritten like that?"

"Wait," Sammy interjected. "If things are different, how do you know you'll get out of this alive?"

Carlos stood perfectly still. And he thought. And the other two stared at him, Cecil looking progressively more terrified. "Wait," Carlos began, "Maybe this is how things are supposed to go."

"You don't have to make me feel better," Cecil whispered. 

"No, hear me out. Dana said time was glitching. I didn't bother to ask for an explanation. If the void is cracking, time might be moving forward in random bursts, or maybe it's moving out of order. That means it's open to alteration. So when you get back, you're going to have to fix it again, but you'll have to fill in the cracks instead of going through an entire week. So maybe... by fixing it... you'll notice things this time? Notice things like Hooded Figures going missing? And you'll remember them?"

Cecil nodded, but didn't look very reassured. "Ok."

Sammy turned and disappeared into the kitchen. Was that a muttered "too much, too much" that Carlos heard?

Carlos wrapped Cecil up in a hug. "We'll be all right, I swear. Hey, here's another reason why you might remember things this time: last time you had no idea what was going on, and you weren't very strong. This time, you'll be prepared, and your mind is much stronger now, you have much more control. You can pay attention."

"Why do you always have so many theories?" Cecil asked. "You have fifteen theories for every question."

"I'm a scientist. It's what I do. I come up with tons of incorrect theories and maybe I hit on the correct one."

"That's not reassuring."

"It usually isn't."

Cecil sighed and shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"No."

"Nervous?"

"Of course not." 

Carlos tilted Cecil's chin up and kissed him. "It's all right to be scared. I'm scared. Sammy's scared. Dana's scared. We're all terrified. You might be safe, though. They want you back."

"Sounds fun."

"It doesn't have to be fun. It has to keep you safe."

Cecil put his hands on Carlos's face. "Will it keep you safe too?"

Carlos grinned. "I think as long as I'm with you, I'll be fine."

"All right, then you'll have to stay right next to me. Got it?"

Carlos slid his hands down Cecil's back. "I don't think I'll have a problem with that."

He leaned down and kissed Cecil again. And again.

"Whatever you're doing, stop doing it in my house!" Sammy yelled from the kitchen. 

Carlos huffed. "We weren't doing anything!"

"If it gets silent and one of you isn't asleep, you're doing something. Stop doing it."

Carlos was annoyed until he saw Cecil's deep red blush. He chuckled. And then he heard a scream from outside. 

Carlos nearly tripped over himself in an attempt to get to the window. Throwing safety to the wind, he pushed aside the curtains and gaped at the view. 

There were four Hooded Figures drifting down the street. 

"What is it?" Sammy nearly knocked Cecil over. "What the fuck are those?"

"Our ride." 

"There is no god."

Carlos grabbed Cecil and ran out the front door. "Thanks Sammy!" He called behind him. "I'll check in with you when I -" Cold, clammy air - not air - not solid - something that was a strange mixture of gas and solid - grabbed his shoulders in a grip that could crush bones. He wanted to look around, but the - hands? - were right next to his head, and moving would mean touching those things, so he hoped that Cecil was there too. Carlos gasped as he was lifted off the ground. And then they were moving. Or they weren't. Maybe - 

Rationally, Carlos knew they had to be moving very quickly. The Hooded Figures had crossed the country in mere minutes. But right in front of him, as soon as his feet had left the ground, Night Vale had appeared. It wasn't getting any closer or farther away. There was no breeze to indicate motion. His face wasn't being smashed in from the enormous pressure of moving thousands of miles in minutes. And Night Vale hadn't moved. 

But suddenly, his feet touched the ground. Next to him, there was a muffled grunt as Cecil tripped. "Are we -"

A gunshot. 

"Run!" Carlos yelled. 

Cecil ran to him instead of Night Vale, which was now barely half a mile in front of them, and pulled up the strange membrane that kept them from being shot. "Night Vale doesn't look too good," he said, nodding at the flickering shield above it. 

"Run."

And they ran, they ran as fast as they could without losing a grip on each other. They reached Night Vale within minutes.

The shield above strengthened into an enormous, translucent, purple-tinged _thing_ above the town. It shimmered like silk. 

"Carlos Trevino," came a voice from outside the sheild. Carlos whirled. There was a woman standing several yards away from the shield, holding a megaphone. "We would like to talk to you." She wasn't looking at him. She was looking around, as though she couldn't see him standing  _right there_. 

The doors of one of the black government-issued SUVs behind her opened. Carlos wondered how they'd run right past those without noticing, and then understood; the cars had been several miles away when Carlos and Cecil had been dropped, and unprepared to move. They'd shot at Carlos when he appeared, and tried to catch them - but of course shooting was useless, the agents didn't know if the shield was solid, and Carlos and Cecil had had a head start. The cars must have caught up to them as soon as they'd reached Night Vale. 

An agent stepped out of the car and pulled someone else out behind him. 

Sony had her head held high, but she had a black eye and a newly-formed scab on her forehead. One leg was in a makeshift cast, and her wrists were bound. 

Carlos let go of Cecil and dashed outside, comprehending in an instant that from the outside, the shield was opaque. The woman hadn't been able to see him because it was impossible to see through the damn thing. "Sony? What happened to your leg? Sprained? Broken? Twisted?"

"Carlos, if Sony speaks, she will get another broken bone. Now, we seem to have come to an impasse. You appear to have  _stolen_ atomic bombs, and we have nuclear bombs. But -"

"Nothing works on Night Vale. We're not at an impasse. Either you give me my sister and leave her alone, or we kill you. End of story."

" _Or_ , before you get the chance to do anything, Sonya dies."

Carlos heard the safety click off on someone's gun. 

"So here's our offer: give us Cecil, and you get Sonya. A town full of murderers for your family."

"Where's Alex?"

"I'm afraid I can't disclose his currant location."

"So I give you Cecil, and you release my siblings."

"Yes."

The American Civil War had nothing on the battle raging within Carlos. He saw Sony standing in front of him, bruised and broken and proud, and knew Alex was in the same shape. Sony had protected him for his entire life. But then there was Cecil, just as strong as he was fragile, and whom he loved more than he'd ever loved anyone else in his entire life, more than he'd realized was possible. And somehow, even though he felt so differently about the two, he loved them both equally, and couldn't do anything but stare down the unknown female in front of him. 

"Why'd you call him out when you wanted me?" Cecil's voice, thick with annoyance, was loud in the tense silence. Carlos spun to find Cecil standing there, outside Night Vale, outside that shield that surrounded the town. "It's really my decision to make, anyway."

"Cecil -" Don't do it? Do it? Go back? Help me? "What are you doing?"

"You have nothing against us. The only person you have leverage over is Carlos, and unfortunately he's essentially powerless. Only I can hand myself over. Now, you have Sonya and Alex, but there are hundreds of people in that town, people I like just as much and have known for longer. You have no leverage and no power, and I have the ability to kill you and destroy the American government within minutes."

Cecil had done this before - had stood up to people he had no power over, people who could overpower him in an instant. It was as though he spent most of his life as a cheerful and ditsy man so that he could save up all of his powers of intimidation for when they were needed. 

"Well then why are you still standing here?" The woman asked.

"Because Carlos  _is_ my boyfriend, and if I didn't make any effort to help his siblings I get the feeling he'd break up with me. So. What I propose is this: you leave, you leave Sony and Alex alone and pay whatever medical bills they have, and we don't smash you to pieces."

"That offer seems heavily weighted on your side."

"Well, on my side, we get two people alive and well. On your side, you get to stay alive, you don't look like total idiots for losing two guys and an entire town, and your government doesn't fall. I think you get the better side of the deal."

"Is this deal open for negotiation?"

"What kind of negotiation?"

"Neither you nor any of your supernatural beings leave the town. In exchange, we keep any news of this from getting out, which will save you from those who would come looking for violence."

"It's funny, that sounds a lot like you keeping this away from the public so that it doesn't look like you failed spectacularly at getting anything done."

"Is it acceptable?"

"Yes."

"Would you wait a minute so that I can clear this with my boss?"

"Yes."

She turned away and pulled out a blackberry. Carlos watched Sony. Sony gave him a glare that could have burned through diamond. Cecil stood, arms crossed over his chest, and waited.

She turned back around. "We accept your terms." Someone clicked the safety back on. Sony took a deep breath. The woman pulled out a checkbook. She wrote two checks and handed one to Sony. "This should cover your medical bills. For obvious reasons, we expect you to come up with a cover story. I'll be giving this check to your brother when I see him."

"And you're going there now, correct?" Cecil asked.

"Yes."

"And if I hear anything about follow-up calls..."

"I'm dead, I'm sure. I would have to be stupid."

"You've proven yourself intelligent so far. I'll presume that you're smart."

"Good doing business with you." She snapped her fingers and the agents piled back into their cars. Within minutes, they were a puff of dust a mile or two away.

Carlos grabbed Sony and helped her limp into Night Vale. Old Woman Josie stood there with three angels. One of them was recognizably the one that had helped Carlos against the librarians. 

"We heard there was trouble?" She asked. 

The angels stepped forward and lifted Sony. 

"I called a cab to take Sonya to the hospital already," Josie added. "They should be here soon."

"Thank you," Sony gasped gratefully as the pressure lifted off of her leg. "Carlos, I swear to God, I am going to murder you as soon as I can walk -"

"It's not my fault, they tried to kill us!"

"And you didn't think to call and warn me?" she screeched.

"By the time we realized that you might be in danger, we were pretty sure they were watching our calls!" It wasn't true. Sony and Alex had seemed so far away, so distant, that it had seemed impossible that they might be in danger. Of all the people Carlos had thought to warn or ask for help, the two of them hadn't even been on the list.

"You _idiots -_ "

"We promise to call next time we get hit with a nuclear bomb."

" _What did you do that was so bad that the government tried to kill you with a goddamn nuclear bomb."_

"It's a town full of abnormal homicidal creatures, we didn't have to do anything!"

"Cecil, I think that's the cab, would you mind letting him in?" Josie pointed out.

"He can get in," Cecil said with a glance at the shield.

"Yes, but I don't think he knows that."

"Ah." The shield shimmered out of existence.

The cab approached as slowly as it could move without stopping entirely. The driver rolled down the window. "Can one of you -" he paused to stare at the angels and the person they were holding. "Would you be Sonya?"

"Yes I would," Sony answered. "Could you set me in the back seat?" The angles opened the door and maneuvered her into the seat. "Real quick, how much do you think the trip is going to cost?"

"From here to the hospital? Maybe 20 bucks."

"Carlos, do you have a twenty? I didn't have time to grab my wallet."

"Uh -" Carlos dug around in his pockets. 

"Here you go, sweetie," Josie said as she handed over a twenty and a ten. "Carlos can pay me back when he can."

"Thank you, Josie," Sony glared at Carlos.

"You're welcome. Come back and visit when you have the time, I enjoyed your company."

"I will."

Josie hugged her.

Sony sighed. "The two of you have to hug me too, you know."

Carlos grinned and hugged her as tightly as he could. Cecil hugged her, Sony whispered something, and he flushed as red as a sunset. Sony shut the door and they watched the taxi disappear in the distence. 

"Time for me to get going," Josie said cheerfully. "It'll be good to have your radio show back, Cecil. They didn't even bother with interns this time."

"I guess we're not going to Europe, huh," Carlos said as they turned towards home. 

"I guess not."

"Did you fix the timestream in here, by the way? Josie seems to remember the past week?"

"That's what I was doing while you were out there. It didn't take so much time, and I knew what was going on."

"Like I said, you got stronger."

People waved as they passed. Several asked what had happened, what would happen, would time move properly and would the void stay gone and would the shield stay up and would they be safe and why were there atomic bombs in city hall, and to every question Cecil told them to listen to that night's special edition radio broadcast. 

"Why  _is_ the void gone?" Carlos asked curiously, glancing up at the sky to note that he could, in fact, see it.

"Tune in later night, and you'll find out."

"Really though. Is it not necessary? I  _did_ hypothesize that it only existed to keep us from being found... I assume it's not necessary for the shield then? I guess that means we can be found now? That'll be a shock for google maps, finding a whole new city in the middle of nowhere..."

Cecil relaxed. "Is that why? Good, I was worried I did something wrong."

"You didn't know?"

"I had no idea."

"So the entire time, we might have been open to attack, and you had  _no idea_?"

"Yes."

"So everything you did - you were running entirely on hope? And we might have had absolutely nothing protecting us? And we might not have had any leverage?"

"Yes, yes, and yes."

" _Are_ we safe?"

"I hope so!"

Cecil shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to keep that to ourselves."

"Yes, I agree with that." Carlos's voice was nearly as high-pitched as Cecil's. 

He unlocked his front door. "What are you going to do with everything in here? The Secret Police, the Hooded Figures, the Librarians..."

"I have no idea."

"Do I have to think of everything?" Carlos asked dramatically.

"You're my perfect scientist. I'm the perfect radio host. You tell me what to say, and I'll save Night Vale." Carlos felt Cecil's arms wrap around his waist. "But can't that wait?"

Carlos felt a smile spread across his face. "That's true. Weren't we in the middle of something? Before the dementor wanna-be's came floating down the street?"

Cecil's hands moved downwards. "I think we were, actually."

Carlos turned to face him. "Sometimes I think we're always in the middle of something, and the rest of our lives are just filler to keep it all interesting." 

"Maybe you're on to something," Cecil murmured into his ear. "Maybe we should just get rid of the filler." 

"I like the way you think." 

And then Cecil found the place at the bottom of his neck, and all discussion ceased to have meaning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that’s all folks! Really. For the last time. Maybe a WTNV/Supernatural crossover. But nothing more with this story. I’ve essentially exhausted my writing skills.   
> That said, I hope that those of you who made it this far enjoyed it! And I hope you’ll forgive me for taking a year and a half to post this last chapter uvu   
> You were the kindest, most helpful, greatest readers I could have ever asked for. Now go! Bless another writer with your perfection! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you faithful readers still reading this thing, enjoy! More will follow. Eventually. Probably after orientation ends.


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